Sugar On The Asphalt
by Glitter and Kisses
Summary: What if Mokuba had been born a girl? A series of short pieces, revolving around growing up as Seto Kaiba's little sister. Female!Mokuba x Pycho!Ryou  though he doesn't come off that way initially .
1. Foreign Language

**WARNINGS/NOTES: female!Mokuba, stereotype-enforcing(?), NO INCEST**

For every _Mean Girls _fan_._

Sugar On The Asphalt: Foreign Language

She's everything Mokuba isn't, and that's why Mokuba hates her.

She's tall, elegant in an Armani number with five inch stilettos, dark hair straightened to perfection and blue-green eyes rimmed with black. Her natural features aren't that different from Mokuba's, and to Mokuba, it's like looking in a mirror and seeing what should be there versus what actually is.

Mokuba leans against the doorframe, casually dressed in skinny jeans and blue plaid flannel, dirtied Converse on her feet. She keeps her calm, because Seto has just introduced the woman and told her, "This is my sister Mokuba. She means the world to me," and that in itself should keep the woman at bay.

But even though it was Mokuba who pushed Seto to get himself out there and start dating, ("Seto, you're going to die single if you don't start soon,") she can't help but wish he hasn't listened to her. It's not that Mokuba doesn't want Seto to marry, it's just that this _woman, _whatever her name is, irritates Mokuba and Mokuba wants her _gone_.

All it had taken was one warm look for Mokuba to return it with ice.

"Nice to meet you," had said the woman.

"Or so I've heard," had replied Mokuba. It came off as a joke, but the lack of reciprocation spoke for itself.

Now they continue.

"She's studying law in Tokyo," states Seto.

"Actually, the firm I interned at ended up prosecuting Schroeder Corp. I'm sure you've heard of them?"

"Of course," laughs Mokuba. "Oh, I _love_ your Louis bag. I think I saw it in the Winter collection display three years ago."

The insult flies right over Seto's head.

"Thank you," says the woman, and fixes her posture. "You know, I'm so glad Seto has a sister. Plenty of time for girl talk. Say, have you ever worn makeup? I think you should try. It would look good, I mean it."

Mokuba hates the way the woman refers to her brother by first name. Only _she_ is allowed to do that! But Seto says nothing, and the woman's jab goes unnoticed.

Mokuba smiles. "No, I don't wear makeup. There's a group of girls at school who do, but they're known for their… loose morals, and I wouldn't want to be mistakenly associated with them. But I like it on you. It really brings out your… personality."

It's the most subtle insult yet, and clueless Seto decides this "girl talk" is a foreign language to him. On cue, his watch alarm goes off.

"We have to go," he says, ruffling Mokuba's hair, and proceeds to lead the woman out with him, to dinner.

The second time, the insults are sharper.

"I _love_ your dress," says Mokuba. "It fits you well. Some women don't realize it's not about the size on the tag, it's about what it looks like on your body."

"Oh, I wouldn't know, but I feel like that's something one would learn from experience, no?" The woman smiles gently, but Mokuba can see the tiger in her eyes.

Yes, thinks Seto, this is a foreign language.

There is no third time. The woman doesn't show up. Seto throws up his arms. "She called and cancelled. On me! Who does she think she is?"

Mokuba looks up from the couch. "Did she give a reason?"

"Yes, she said she couldn't be with me if there was going to be tension between you and her." Seto's eyes narrow. "She was in hysterics for some other reason when she called, and said something about you being less than hospitable. Is that right?"

Mokuba gives Seto an innocent look. "The only times I interacted with her, you were there. Did you see me acting rudely towards her?"

Seto ponders. "No, actually, I just remember you two complimenting each other."

"Exactly. I think she's a bit of a nut, canceling on you and making up stuff about me."

Seto shakes his head. "Women."

Having blocked off his schedule accordingly, Seto has a bit of (gasp!) free time, and Mokuba convinces Seto to watch a movie with her. They haven't done this in years, she thinks, as she curls up next to him with hot chocolate in hand. And she can't help but feel bad for being selfish, but those thoughts fade away when Seto puts his arm around her shoulder.

Seto Kaiba may be fluent in many languages, including Japanese, English, and binary; he may be a child-prodigy-slash-genius, but as Mokuba figured out a long time ago, he will never comprehend the foreign tongues of the XX.

* * *

><p>AN: Inspired by the movie _Mean Girls_. Not trying to stereotype girls; I _am_ a girl and I don't operate like that at all. I just thought this would be fun to write.

I've written a lot more female!Mokuba drabbles, but they're in first-person past-tense, most involving a relationship with psycho!Ryou (though he doesn't come off that way at first). Would you guys be interested?

Also, I'm turning Victims of Fate into a chapter story! I'm re-naming it "Recoil." Second chapter should be up soon. Thanks to all my readers/reviewers!

No flames please!


	2. Cry

**WARNINGS/NOTES: female!Mokuba, implied rape/noncon, language. No incest.**

_For a friend of a friend._

Sugar On The Asphalt: Cry

**(I'm going to put another warning here. Implied noncon. This may be trigger material for victims. I wouldn't know, but I'm going to be nice and warn you anyways**.**)**

Ever since she can remember, Seto has always expected perfection from Mokuba. It's not that Seto is cruel, but that's the way Gozaburo raised him, and so it's only natural that he has high expectations of Mokuba. Not only does he expect her grades to be high and her technology designs to be flawless, but he has no sympathy for weakness, even with her.

(Whenever she cries, she does it in the privacy of her room, where he can't see her hating herself for crying and being weak.)

She's never been so happy that he's too busy working to pay attention to her, she thinks, as she steps out of the strange secondhand Honda Accord and waves goodbye to the girl (an angel, she thinks) who drove her back home. Because if Seto was watching, he would ask why she hadn't called the limousine. (Of course she had remembered, through the haze, that Isono would be driving and she had intended to avoid his question of "what happened?") He would notice that even though her stilettos are in one hand, she is still limping, and that there's a tear in her wrinkled party dress.

And even in the darkness, because Seto is sharp and catches detail, he would see the dried blood in the inside of her leg (that she had tried to clean in the bathroom) and that even though the tears had been washed way, the mascara tracks would tell him everything he needs to know.

Mokuba fumbles with the key before she opens the door, the faint smell of alcohol on her breath, and stumbles in. And Seto is too busy working to notice that the shower is on, though Mokuba usually showers in the morning, and that it stays on for an abnormally long time.

Mokuba cries herself to sleep.

Seto doesn't understand, the next day, why Mokuba is so out of it, or why she flinches whenever he touches her, or why she's wearing long sleeves when it's eighty degrees Fahrenheit outside. He tells her to quit being such a drama queen when she refuses to eat.

"You're skinny," he tells her. "God, what is it with girls? You'd better not get involved in this anorexia nonsense, I have enough to deal with as it is."

"It's not that," she insists, before bolting to the trash can, a familiar feeling in the pit of her stomach. She throws up before she even makes it there.

"Are you sick?" he asks. "Do I need to get the doctor?"

"No!" she shouts, a little too quickly. "I mean, I'm fine. Thanks, Seto."

And he has work to do, so he lets her deal with it on her own. He supposes if there's anything serious, she'll either tell him or see the doctor herself.

That night, Mokuba is terrified to sleep alone. She searches for Seto, but it looks like it's going to be an all-nighter at work for him.

"Isono?" she asks over the pager. "Can you come to my room?"

"Of course, Miss Kaiba."

Rare have been the times when Isono has visited Mokuba in her bedroom. He stands awkwardly at the door until she invites him inside, and pats the edge of the bed for him to sit.

"I don't want to sleep by myself," she tells him. "Will you stay here and protect me until I fall asleep?"

"Of course," stutters Isono, dumbstruck. "But Miss Kaiba, you're a young woman now, aren't you a bit old to believe in the monster under your bed? You know it's not real."

"No, he's very real," she insists, and turns away. He doesn't understand how real the monster is, and how, even though it's been nearly twenty four hours, it still hurts to walk.

At least this time, there are no tears.

A week. It takes a week before it all gets to Mokuba and she can't pretend everything is okay anymore. She throws down the design for the new duel disk she's been helping Seto with, and runs towards her room.

Seto stops her and grabs her forearm. The skin is raw and red and still healing, and Mokuba forgot to wear long sleeves that day. He notices immediately, knows how tortional marks of such nature are created.

"What happened here?" he asks.

"Nothing, Seto," chokes Mokuba, fighting the tears until she can hide safely. "Please, let me go."

"Show me the other one."

And because Mokuba will never deny Seto anything, she does.

"Tell me what happened."

But she can't. She won't lie, but she can't put it into words, so she tries. "The party last week," she manages, before burying herself into Seto. "I thought he was my friend!" And she lets herself cry, feeling weak and pathetic and hating herself, expecting Seto to give her the friends-are-for-fools-I-told-you-so speech.

It never comes, because Seto has broken. He failed to protect Mokuba and he finds himself in no position to criticize. So he lets her cry, because he's always been so hard on her.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers (and with her growth spurt, his lips are buried in her hair). "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I didn't know how to," she admits against his collarbone. "I thought you would be mad at me, and you wouldn't believe that I didn't want to and you'd think I was a slut and you'd be ashamed of me. I though that you'd be mad because even though I was fighting the whole time, I lost. And I cried and he saw me crying. I'm sorry I'm so weak."

Seto steps back and looks her in the eyes, drying a tear with his finger. "You're not weak," he insists, even though Gozaburo raised him to believe otherwise. "Mokuba, you know you can tell me anything, and I'll always love you no matter what. How about I take the day off work and we can talk about this and get you taken care of, and do something you like, before I go kill that sleazeball personally?"

Mokuba smiles and nods. She knows Seto will unleash the whole wrath of KaibaCorp upon him, but that doesn't really seem to come as comfort. She is happy, though, that her fears were only fears, and that Seto still loves her (no matter how filthy she feels in her own skin), and that he's going to cancel work for her.

She doesn't think that something's wrong if it has to take an incident of this magnitude for him to spend time with her.

* * *

><p>AN: I was talking to one of my friends at a New Years party, and he told me what happened to one of his female friends at a college frat party. She's okay now. (For the record, this happens to boys, too, just less often. And most of the time, the offender is a friend or acquaintance, not a stranger.)

I promise the next one will be happy.

Going back to school soon, so updates will be intermittent. I'm still working on the next chapter of "Recoil," though I don't know when it will be up.


	3. Bravery

**Warnings: Implied noncon, language**

_For everyone who has been strong for too long._

Sugar On The Asphalt: Bravery

And somehow, a case that began with one person prosecuting another had turned into Kaiba Corporation versus Domino University. The media coverage was insane, flashing blurry pictures of the Kaibas along with a yearbook shot of the name which wasn't to be pronounced. News anchors and analysts, lawyers and judges alike found their way to the big screens more often than not.

"Can I have some privacy?" complains Mokuba. "I just want to eat my breakfast in peace!"

Seto speaks into the headset. "Isono. We need extra security coverage in zones C-8 and A-17."

The reporters leave at the sight of the forces, but Mokuba knows that until the trial is over, there will not be peace around Kaiba Mansion. And with the reporters storming the entrance to the Kaiba Corp tower, as well as the Occupy movement's protests of the week, working from home is the only option at this point.

And what Mokuba had been hoping to keep between herself, Seto, and the offending party, is now public, and she hates it.

Of course the Yuugi-tachi come to visit, but it takes a while before Mokuba accepts to see anyone but Anzu and Shizuka. (With the exceptions of Seto and Isono, she's still uncomfortable around men, their square shoulders and deep voices and rough ways.) But eventually, she sees them. They keep her company, and the only reason Seto tolerates them in the mansion is that Mokuba leaves rarely, and he's been told that the solitude is a quick way into depression. They're awkward around her, avoiding the subject, trying to speak of happy things. So unlike Seto, who addresses the elephant in the room when there happens to be one.

There's even a bouquet of flowers from Schroeder Corp (a business tactic, not an act of sympathy) with a generic card attached. Somewhere between the roses, Leon had managed to sneak a personal note in. Sitting on her bed, Mokuba reads it and smiles.

Eventually the visits slow down and stop, even though the hype increases as the trial nears. There's school, after-class jobs, and other things more important than staying with a troubled girl. But there's one who keeps visiting every weekend, the quiet one with white hair and a gentle smile. Even though he's of the offending gender, he doesn't make Mokuba uncomfortable, and he doesn't seem to be uncomfortable with the situation. (He knows how it feels to be invaded and treated like trash. He's had trouble accepting his body as his own.)

Mokuba's usually busy working on new designs with Seto, or doing her schoolwork from home (she'd stopped going to school when she began therapy), so the visits are short, but always welcome. Sometimes Ryou brings her lunch, even though she has gourmet cooks in the mansion.

"While I admire your work ethic, it might just kill you," he jokes. "I'm sure you forgot to eat again."

"Thanks," smiles Mokuba, in silent admittance. "I always told myself I wouldn't be like this. I'm turning into my brother."

The trial approaches and Mokuba feels nauseous. She sits in her bed and Ryou sits across the room. He won't touch her. He knows how she must feel, and won't invade her space.

"You look troubled," he notes. "Everything okay?"

"I'm fine," she lies.

"You're blaming yourself, aren't you?"

She doesn't even to think to ask how he knows. "I mean, I was drunk. And I'm not even in college, hell, I'm barely in high school, I was asking for it, going to a frat party. And now I'm going to ruin his life? Sure, I'm mad he betrayed me, but that's a long time behind bars for just being a shitty friend."

"Stop," insists Ryou. He tells her everything he's been told and didn't believe. "Stop beating yourself up over something that's not your fault. And stop defending him. It doesn't matter, no one ever has a right to invade your body. Don't let yourself get used to it."

"I can't talk about it!" she screams. "I can't talk about it and I don't want to, and I have to go tell the attorney everything and testify in front of a bunch of people I don't know; I have to tell them all the humiliating details! All to get him behind bars, and I'm not sure that's what I want!"

Ryou is unfazed by the outburst. "I know it's not easy," he admits. "You didn't deserve this. But if he goes unpunished, he'll do it again. Can you live with that?"

"I… I never thought of it that way…"

"Can I tell you something? I mean I don't want to talk about myself at a time like this but…"

"No, go ahead."

"Remember the Spirit of the Millennium Ring?"

"Yes. He kidnapped me. But even _he_ didn't do _this_ to me," she finishes sourly.

"He hurt me, but what was worse was, that he hurt my friends. And I still can't forgive myself for some of the things he's done. I'm telling you, it's better to get him locked up now then see a real friend in the same situation as you, or worse."

Mokuba ponders. "You're a good friend." A pause. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you so nice to me? Why do you keep visiting me?"

Ryou smiles (he's always smiling, Mokuba notices, and she likes it, because smiles from Seto are rare to come by). "You're a good person, and I wish the best for you. Isolation can be maddening."

On his way out, he gives her a final phrase that stays with her longer than he intends it to.

"I had a little sister, too."

Mokuba thinks of Ryou's words (makes herself a martyr) when she tells the expensive attorney everything that happened (watches Seto's face go a shade whiter, jaw clench slightly) for the sake of every other girl who could be in her position. It's hard, but she does it. The next time Ryou visits, she tells him she did it.

"I'm proud," he says sweetly. "It's not easy."

She's really started to grow on him, maybe because he sees Amane in her eyes and he couldn't save Amane, but maybe he can save Mokuba. And when she smiles, she's genuine and not plastered in makeup like the others. She doesn't see him in the context of the ring like the others do. She grew up too early; he can tell the innocence is a facade. She's a good girl, but more disillusioned than she comes off to be. He sees right through her, and wonders of she can see right through him.

And then comes the trial. Mokuba doesn't do much talking, it's all the attorney, but the cross-examination creates an adrenaline rush. She forces herself to answer honestly and look away from the TV cameras. Domino University has hired many lawyers to try to cover up the case and had tried a settlement, but KaibaCorp has more money, and better attorneys, and a sense of conviction, and after not too long, the verdict is in, there is a sentence, and the fraternity gets shut down because Mokuba wasn't the first and otherwise wouldn't be the last. (Of course, this causes a uproar at DU as to whether Greek Life will continue, and of course the University allows it as long as there are no more incidents.)

Seto has been spending more time with Mokuba (out of guilt?), and after the trial they are both exhausted and go home for dinner. Ryou calls in advance, knowing how drained Mokuba is, and when he comes over, he's made sweets.

"What for?"

"To celebrate your victory, but most importantly, your bravery."

"Ryou, you've been with me through this entire ordeal and I still can't understand why."

"Please don't try to."

She looks at him quizzically, but she can't read him. She realizes, she's never been able to, even after all this time.

* * *

><p>AN: So it was a bit happier, right? I just love Mokuba x Ryou.

I have nothing against frats, they're generally cool, but where I go to school, there have been some serious problems. Personally, I don't go to those parties, but they can be fun and safe most of the time if you act responsibly. Bad things do happen, though, and can happen to anyone no matter what precautions are taken.

Updates will be intermittent. I'm back at school and classes start soon. These chapters are easier to write than "Recoil" which I am still working on seriously.

Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed!


	4. Beginnings

**Warnings: Slight violence. Shounen-ai.**

Sugar On The Asphalt

_Sleeping Beauty (Age 13)_

I was never one for fairy tales. When I was younger, I'd hear them from other hopeful orphans, but Seto was never one for pretend. I never grew up with the tooth fairy or Santa Claus, because Seto found no point in teaching me lies. Gozaburo taught me that the monsters in the closet were real. But fairy tales with happy endings? Never.

Only for a small portion of my life did I sit and wonder where the dragon to slay was, or where my strong prince would come from, or where the frog I was meant to kiss would be. I learned quickly that no one defeated the Blue Eyes, and that Seto would always protect me. As for the frog, I'm still trying to see what you could possibly _do_ to make anything close to royalty.

I'm not sure what happened at Duelist Kingdom, but it felt like I had been sleeping forever. When I woke up, I was on the floor of the balcony, with a silver-haired beauty at my side, one warm hand supporting my back, saving my head from the cold, hard tile. He was crouched down, leaning over me in concern, so close I could feel his breath on my lips.

"Guys! Mokuba's awake!" he called out.

Hello, Prince Charming.

* * *

><p><em>Betrayal (Age 8?)<em>

Niisama actually wanted to hurt me. The only source of comfort and protection in my life was intending to _hurt_ me.

Of course, I blamed myself. The first thing I asked was what I could have done to make him accuse me of such a terrible deed. It really hurt that he thought that I would betray him. Our bond was the most important thing to me, and for him to so adamantly believe that I had betrayed him made me wonder what I had given him as reason to assume something so terrible.

Then the fact that he was so upset that he would hit me, _slam_ me against the door and throw me on the floor. What had I done, to make him think I was deserving of this?

At first I was mad, and I went to Gozaburo, but then I realized I was between two evils. I chastised myself at even considering Niisama "evil." Of course I gave him my two percent. I had to redeem myself. I was sorry. So sorry.

I even felt guilty when Niisama apologized.

* * *

><p><em>Fine (Age 13)<em>

I absolutely loved the Ishtar household. In size, it was nothing compared to Kaiba mansion, but I loved the decorations. My impression was that Ishizu had designed it, as I could never imagine Malik or Rishid as being the artistic type. The walls were painted a dark red, with various gold-framed pictures and glass-encased artifacts hanging on them. Afghan carpets lay on each floor, with golden centerpieces on the tables and hookahs galore. Very Egyptian. I think that's why I liked it so much; it was exotic and interesting.

Perhaps that's what drew Seto to Ishizu. Her identity was something he could never touch. Of course, he was never a romantic, but they did end up working on a project together. Strictly business, he told me. Somewhere I knew that deep inside he was attracted to her, but I never pushed it.

Sitting on the couch across from Ishizu, I observed her intently as she spoke to Seto. She was graceful, and I think that's what made her so lovely. She carried herself with composure, accepting her femininity without being slutty, and spoke with conviction. Sure, Anzu was pretty, Shizuka was cute, Mai was sexy, but Ishizu was enchanting. I hoped that one day I would grow to be like her.

"This discussion must not be very entertaining for you, Mokuba," laughed Ishizu softly. "Perhaps Malik would be more entertaining? He just discovered the phenomenon known as video games, and I'm sure he would enjoy sharing his newfound obsession with you."

I looked up at Seto, and upon noticing just how well he also carried himself, I felt a bit out of place. He nodded, and there was a silent agreement that if Malik tried anything he would be dead. I jumped off the couch (very graceful, huh?) and made my way to Malik's room. The door was more than ajar, so I opened it, intending just to wait at the door before asking permission.

Clearly, Malik had also discovered the phenomenon known as making out. More specifically, making out with Ryou Bakura on the edge of the bed. I felt myself grow uncomfortable and took a step back, hoping I hadn't been noticed.

"Heya, Mokuba!"

Malik had broken away from Ryou, and waved to me like nothing had happened. Ryou, on the other hand was doing a wonderful impression of a tomato. He elbowed Malik. "I told you to lock the door, look, we've scarred an innocent child!"

"I'm not a child!" I protested. The two most attractive guys were sitting in front of me and they thought I was a child!

"You're half my height, kiddo," joked Malik. "What's up?"

"First of all I'm not kiddo," I snapped. "And Ishizu is discussing business with Niisama. She said you had video games, but you seemed kind of busy… It's okay I'll leave." I turned to go.

"Nah, Moke, it's cool!" Malik encouraged me to enter his room. Not wanting to be rude, I did, hoping they wouldn't make out while I was in the room.

"Well, he HAD a video game system," pointed out Ryou.

"Hey!" shouted Malik, glaring at Ryou. "How was I supposed to know not to wash it in the bathtub?"

I giggled at this. Sometimes I forgot he had been raised in a tomb. Now that I thought about it, that was freaky. Malik patted the edge of the bed and I hesitantly sat next to him. "I know how boring business discussions are, we might as well entertain you."

Clearly, they had an interesting idea of what entertainment was. "What are we going to do?"

"Whatever you want," shrugged Ryou, smiling. He always smiled. I think that's what got me attracted to him.

"I know! Let's play one of those ridiculous games that Honda and Jonouchi play!" shouted Malik. "Like truth or dare?"

"No," said Ryou flatly. "Your dares always involve me doing something morbid, and your questions wouldn't be appropriate with a lady in the room."

"I can take it!" I protested. "I grew up with Seto-niisama!"

They burst out laughing at this, which I couldn't understand. I frowned.

"I'm just trying to protect your innocence," laughed Ryou. "We can just talk."

It turned more into a conversation between the two boys, while I tried to listen. Eventually I got tired, and let the upper half of my body fall against the bed, and I fell asleep. It wasn't a deep sleep, and the whole time I could still hear Malik's cheery voice and Ryou's adorable accent.

Malik gently nudged me awake when Niisama was ready to leave. Seto looked a bit upset, and I assumed he had gotten into another argument with Ishizu. Like a married couple, I swear.

"Wait up!" I ran and caught up to him. He was fuming. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine," he hissed. He always told me that. Someone could have cut off his arms and he would tell me that. It had to be the biggest lie ever created, one he used far too often.

If he was fine, that wouldn't have been the last day I got to see the inside of the Ishtar's house.

_Observations (Age 16)_

Niisama is sharp angles and straight lines. The way he walks is stiff, robotic, even his glances are mechanical. The edge of his mouth upturns when he smirks, breaking what could be infinite. He's wiry and spiderlike, but the trenchoats make up for it, dominant and demanding, like his personality. He says so much in so few words.

I'm warm and overflowing, loud and conflicted. I walk pragmatically, not rolling my hips like a woman should. I run down the sidewalks when I am late, oh-so-ungraciously, with an unbalanced thump if I'm carrying Niisama's briefcase. It bangs my hip with every stride, despite my efforts to keep it away. When I smirk, I'm all teeth, when I laugh, my eyes shut and my mouth opens without restraint.

Ryou is soft and detailed and misleading. His movements are gentle and his smile is accepting. When he laughs, it's almost inaudible. He never smirks, and he never, _ever_ cries. He fights his way out of a corner without making a scene. He hates himself sometimes, I know, but he can't hate anyone else. He accepts people as they are, accepts me as I am, even on my worst day, and when he smiles, I see in color.

* * *

><p><em>Sugar on the Asphalt (Age 16)<em>

It was Friday, and I was headed out to the café again for lunch, alone again, because two of the girls at my lunch table were fighting and I didn't want to be involved in the conflict. I was looking forward to seeing Ryou; his smile always made me feel better and less stressed. I wasn't even paying attention when I entered the café, and just took a coffee and some sushi, clicking away at my laptop, subconsciously asking myself if I was turning in to Niisama.

I finished my assignment, and forced myself to take a break, something Niisama never did, closed my laptop and walked outside. There, out on the sidewalk, Ryou sat with a magnifying glass, looking at the ground. A bit confused, I sat down next to him. "Hey."

"Oh, hello!" He smiled and looked at me, blushing slightly.

"What are you doing?"

"Smoke break."

"You smoke?"

He held up the magnifying glass. "Smoking sugar." I noticed that at his feet, on the asphalt, was a thin sheet of sugar. "My coworkers got into an argument about whether caramel was made by melting sugar, and I had the urge to find out for myself."

I laughed. So cute and impulsive, so unlike Niisama.

"And?"

"Still working at it."

"Mind if I try?"

He passed me the magnifying glass, and I held it over the sugar, a bit nervous at the fact that I was so close to him, and that he was even more beautiful up close. I don't know if it was because of slight anxiety (because Mokuba Kaiba never, _ever_, gets anxious) or lack of sleep, but my hand was shaking a little bit.

"You have to concentrate or it won't work." He held my wrist with his hand, steadying my forearm against his. I could feel a blush creeping over my cheeks, though out of the corner of my eye, he was perfectly calm, and I began to wonder just how one-sided this crush was. "KaibaCorp going well?" he asked.

"Niisama's super busy," I sighed. "I wanted him to take me to the new museum exhibit that Ishizu is holding, but he won't. He hates museums, especially Egyptian exhibits. It's like this strange phobia of his."

He nodded. "I heard about it, I was hoping to go at some point." He sighed. "I don't want to go alone, I don't think I could handle it. Would you like to come with me this weekend?"

My heart stopped, and I choked on my saliva. "Wha- what?"

He looked taken aback by my face. "Does it sound that ridiculous?"

"No!" I attempted to regain my voice and brain. "I mean, I want to, but I don't think it would be good for me."

"Hm? I won't kidnap you, if that's what you're worried about."

"No, it's…" I turned even redder.

"Mokuba, did I do something to offend you?"

"No, no," I shook my head. I had to tell him. It had been eating at me for months and I had to get it out. "I… I like you." There. I had said it. Shameless. Mokuba Kaiba was shameless. "And it wouldn't do me any good to go and lead myself on, when you're with Malik." I stood up hastily. "I'm sorry, I… I'll leave now." I turned to leave, but he gently gripped my forearm.

"Stop."

"Why?"

He took a deep breath. "Malik and I… ended a long time ago." Another breath. "And I enjoy seeing you when you come here on Fridays." A third. "And it's nice that you had the guts to say you like me."

I was pretty certain that if I had a brain at some point, it wasn't functioning. Or turning into mush. Something like that. I wasn't too embarrassed, Mokuba Kaiba was rarely embarrassed (I kept trying to remember that) but my heart was out of control and I was going to start hyperventilating from emotional overload.

"Just tell me if the feeling is reciprocated," I managed to say in the most Kaiba-like of tones.

"I… I don't know," he admitted. "I'm not sure enough to say yes, but… not sure there isn't anything there to say no."

"Oh."

"But I still extend my offer." He looked at me intently. "Would you like to see the Egyptian exhibit with me on Sunday at the grand opening?"

"Like… a date?" I managed to ask, nerves on fire, my head screaming OHGODOHGODOHGOD!

He blushed and nodded. "Why not? At least I'll figure things out."

I swallowed. "Then yes, I would really like that."

All of a sudden, the door to the coffee shop opened and a very flustered Hiroto Honda stormed out. "Bakura! You've been out here for 15, can you come back in and help me? The line's getting insane! Oh, hello, Mokuba."

"Hey."

Ryou stood up and brushed off his clothes. "Pick you up at six?"

I nodded. Ryou and Honda walked inside, and I saw Honda punching Ryou on the shoulder, laughing, pointing a thumb in my direction, while Ryou blushed slightly.

I don't remember what happened at school for the rest of the day, but I couldn't concentrate. Apparently Ryou couldn't either, because on my way back home I passed the coffee shop and saw a discarded magnifying glass, and a thin, unburned layer of sugar on the asphalt.

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><p>AN: These are some of the original drabbles, from the original "Sugar On The Asphalt" project. They will appear out of order, but will still be connected. Also, Ryou is psychotic. This will show later.

Thank you to my faithful reviewers!


	5. Butterflies

**WARNINGS: Implied noncon, heterosexual kiss, mentions of death from childbirth, non-incestuous kiss between siblings.**

Sugar On The Asphalt: Butterflies

51. Touch (16 Years Old)

Ryou didn't touch me. Not on the date to the museum, not on our dinner date, not on your trip to the park. He never laid a finger on me, except maybe to touch my shoulder to get my attention. He didn't even hold hands with me. He hadn't asked me to be his girlfriend yet, but we were still spending a lot of time together. Even Niisama, in his busy schedule, began to notice and told me that Ryou was an endangered species. He even told it to Ryou's face.

I really appreciated how considerate Ryou was. He knew what I had been through. Though he didn't talk about it, I had a general idea of what he had been through. I knew he had experience from his past relationship with Malik, a lot more experience than I had, but he still wasn't a very physical person. It might have to do with the fact that he was always alone and no one really touched him on a regular basis. I was always a physical person, hugging Niisama and clinging to his coat, but now… I still had a hard time with physical contact.

One day I was going to get over this and I was going to hug Ryou for all he was worth.

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><p>23. Black Dahlia (16 Years Old)<p>

Ryou's apartment was, well, I didn't know how to judge, since I had lived in Kaiba Mansion my whole life. Everything seemed to be functioning properly, so I guess it was livable.

He was generally organized, just like Niisama, only not as robotic. He showed me his kitchen, and I was amazed he knew how to actually cook. I never had the patience. The living room had an old TV with the cables unplugged, and a discarded video game machine. It looked like it hadn't been touched in ages. His bedroom was colorless and lonely. I remembered he had no family, except that absentee of a father, so he spent every night alone. It was a rather depressing thought.

His storage closet was a secret, and I felt honored that he would show it to me. He had put up his deck for good, along with the duel disk. What shocked me were the meticulously made RPG sets. It was almost scary how detailed they were. The figurines were almost human. There was also a Ouija board hidden in the back, though I doubt he actually used it.

He let me look through his deck. It was all occult-themed, and I was surprised to find he's designed it himself, as opposed to the psycho who lived in the Millennium Ring. There was one card, though, that the spirit had insisted on, the Dark Necrofear card. Ryou gave me the card, because he couldn't bear the memories, but couldn't tear it up and throw it away. It was a rather odd present. I would be sure to use it if I ever played Duel Monsters.

* * *

><p>20. Drug (16 Years Old)<p>

I don't know if I loved Ryou, or the idea of him. I don't know if I loved him because he did everything Niisama couldn't. Since I was with him, I had stopped becoming so disappointed at the lack of Niisama's smiles, or the coldness in Niisama's eyes. I think my whole life I'd been missing something, and I'd been counting on Niisama to give it to me.

I realized how selfish I was, being dissatisfied with the person he had become. He had gone through everything for me, and it was my duty to love unconditionally and accept him. It was much easier to do now, because I didn't have to ache for a single hug or heartfelt laugh.

I didn't know where this relationship with Ryou was going. It was moving pretty slowly, but that was okay with me. It was more about trust and emotions than anything. The fact that he was beautiful was just an added bonus. Perhaps, I thought, I was becoming addicted. Not that I minded.

* * *

><p>21. Kisses (16 Years Old)<p>

When Niisama kissed me, it was just an accident. I was squirming on the orphanage floor, refusing to take my medication and it had gotten to the point where he had to force me down and shove it into my mouth. It was a disgusting grape-flavored liquid, and I use the term "grape" loosely. I swallowed painfully, putting on more of a show than I needed to, and then accepted defeat. He leaned to kiss my forehead, and I moved at the same time. His lips were dry and fleeting. I made a face and stuck out my tongue, and knocked the bottle out of his hand.

When Noah kissed me, it was empty. He had to leave; he had something to do, despite my protests. I knew deep down he wasn't coming back with us. He apologized beforehand, and crushed our lips together. I didn't resist. He was a bit sick in the head, being locked in the virtual world, and he at least deserved this. I might have been crying. I couldn't remember. On the narrow escape afterwards, I threw orchids for him, tracing my lips with my finger, realizing that it was all in my head. It left me feeling dissatisfied.

When Ryou finally kissed me, his hands were shaking. I was surprised; he had become rather experienced with Malik Ishtar. It took me a while later to realize he was nervous about hurting me or moving too fast for me. I was shaking too, because I was sixteen and I had still never been _truly_ kissed and oh God it was actually happening and his mouth was _hot_... It wasn't like in the movies, there was no music, and there were no cherry blossom petals falling in my hair. There _was_ the glare of a homeless person, the parasol on the table outside the coffee shop, and the bustling noise of people going about their daily business on the sidewalk. Or at least, I think there was, I wasn't actually paying attention.

* * *

><p>21.5 Post-Kiss (16 Years Old)<p>

He turned a bright shade of red, and I knew he was about to apologize. I put a finger to his lips and I just smiled at him, letting him know it was okay, I trusted him enough and he could touch me like this. It was almost healing, having felt his hands on my waist and in my hair, gentle hands that didn't want to hurt me, soft lips that told me he cared. I knew if anything, being with Ryou would help me recover, not just from _that_, but from everything that haunted me. I hoped being with me would help him through whatever he had been through.

"Does this mean we're official?" I asked. Goodness, the nerve I had sometimes…

"I'd like that," he said, smiling softly.

"Good." I took his hand in mine and skipped all the way back home. He had to try to keep up with me.

I felt _amazing_.

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><p>53. Deathday (Age 17)<p>

I hated my birthday. When I was younger I loved it, but reality and age were disenchanting, and my birthday happened to be the day my mother died. I couldn't help but feel guilty, as if I had robbed her of life. Niisama always told me it wasn't my fault, and I knew it wasn't my fault but it still felt like it. I tried talking about Niisama about it today and it went horribly. Niisama always had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon. He thought strictly in logic, and then pride. Pride isn't logical but it made more sense to him than emotion.

Ryou remembered my birthday. I had always expected that any boyfriend of mine would be obligated to remember but for some reason I didn't care when it came to Ryou. I knew he had a lot on his mind and plenty to deal with. And I knew that money was very limited on his end. Of course he would try to impress me, I thought.

"I decided it would be pointless to impress you financially," he told me. "So I made this." He handed me a little RPG figurine he had made. It looked just like me, in a princess costume. The detail was unbelievable; I could tell how much time was spent making it. It was not the most valuable thing I ever owned, but he had made it with his hands and… I loved it. He was such a personal kind of boy. I really appreciated that. I held onto the doll tightly. Automatically priceless.

Being me, I threw my arms around him and gave him a bone-crushing hug. He wasn't used to affection but he didn't seem to mind it, and held me back gently. Like I was precious. Ryou… he was everything I wanted and needed at the moment.

He noticed the white flowers in my hand. "I'm so sorry! May I ask...?"

"My mother," I said quietly, feeling guilty. "She died in childbirth. I think I killed her." The thought of having vocalized that, and to someone as important as Ryou… it broke me. It took everything I had not to cry on the spot.

"Sorry to hear," he whispered, before tilting my chin up to his. "It's not your fault. Please don't ever day anything horrible like that."

"I look just like her!" I couldn't hold that one back. "I feel horrible, Ryou, I hate my birthday. You wouldn't understand."

"You don't think so?" he asked softly. "After the Spirit? He kidnapped you. He hurt you. How do you think I feel now, after everything he did to my friends with my own hands?"

"But it's not your—oh. I see," I admitted. "It's not something that can be rationalized, though. I feel what I feel; I can't help it."

"I won't argue there. I just don't like seeing you upset. You're too important to me." He smiled at me and leaned down a little. I leaned up and our noses brushed against each other. Butterflies in my stomach fluttered softly.

It was at that point that I realized I had Niisama, my incredible, amazing stronger older brother who meant the world to me, to make me feel good when Ryou wasn't there. Niisama was always there for me, and I could never express what he meant to me. Ryou could never replace him, but he filled the voids that Niisama couldn't. But Ryou, he had no one. All he had was me. And while it was incredibly flattering, it was quite the responsibility.

It would take a long time for me to learn how truly damaged he was.

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><p>AN: Some more of the original drabbles. I like them. They are numbered in the order I wrote them, and put here in chronological order. There wasn't any psycho!Ryou here; I guess he'll show up eventually. His closet does contain some hints.

I think I might include some girl moments in the next chapter, like what it would be like for female!Mokuba to grow up without a mother. So it's not all relationship stuff.

Reviews are loved. No flames please!


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